Non Timebo Mala
by JediMagnet09
Summary: Something is missing in Dean Winchester's life.  He's felt it for years, never able to explain it.  His father and friends recognize it, but cannot help.  Hunting isn't enough.  Then he meets a meek but powerful boy named Sam and everything changes.
1. Prologue

Hey guys! Here's a little taste of my new story! So, in case this doesn't make it clear, Sam is not related to Dean. Obviously, this story is AU. I hope you all like it! :)

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><p>Even at 16 years old, Dean Winchester was one of the best in hunters in the business. His instincts were as accurate as his aim and, despite his insistence otherwise, he was very intelligent and did his job well. Everyone who knew him knew that the day would soon come when he would easily achieve the title of best, even above his father and the well-known Bobby Singer.<p>

However, what very few people knew, was that the hunter was missing something. Something was leaving a gaping hole in his soul, that couldn't be filled no matter what he and his father tried. A deep loneliness seemed to settle in every fiber of his being and it couldn't be satiated. Not with woman, not with his beloved car, not with hunting, not even with his father.

…...

John Winchester was a good father, despite his difficulty in communicating with his boy. He tried for years to help fill the hole in his son, but nothing seemed to work and he didn't know what else to do.

He missed his Mary more than anything, because he had no doubt that she would have known what to do for him.

But she had been taken, ripped away from her husband and son with a speed and cruelty that neither of them could ever forget or forgive.

The demon who was responsible for it was dead, but the two Winchesters had had no idea what to do with themselves afterwards. Neither felt they could settle down. Something pulled at them, urged them to keep going. A drive to hunt that pushed them from state to state, from one side of the country to the other, searching ever searching for _what,_ they didn't know.

But the Winchesters were nothing if not determined.

They wouldn't give up.

And someday maybe they would feel complete.


	2. Chapter 1

Hey all! Hope you'll enjoy the story and thanks for the reviews! :)

So Sam's abilities might seem a little too X-men for some people, but I really wanted to play with this a little and I promise it's _not _an X-men crossover or something and I'll try to keep it as realistic as possible.

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><p>Sam Egan loved his life.<p>

He had been blessed with a wonderful mother, a home that met their needs, and the ability to help people who needed it. His mother had always taught him to be grateful for what he had and whatever his mother said was gospel to the young boy.

Sure, life was hard sometimes too.

_Nothing's perfect. _

Sam shrugged off the thought and tossed the ball up into the air, catching it again easily.

...

Cara Egan watched her son play in their backyard, her expression sorrowful, wistful.

She wished more than anything that she could have given her son a different life.

At 11 years old, her son was innocent in a way that surprised her given their circumstances. Their small town of North Grove didn't offer many opportunities for a normal family, much less one like their's.

Sam had been gifted with a soft heart, tenderness towards others, a long suffering that Cara herself had worked years to develop. The boy was very shy, small for his age, and didn't have many friends, yet he was happy. Always content, always forgiving.

Cara struggled to forgive the residents of North Grove so easily. The daily torture they put _her_ through she could live with. It was something her family had lived through for generations. She had never wished it on her baby, though had known it would come.

The residents no longer believed in witches, but the stories about her family, the _feelings_ towards her family, had been passed down for many generations and it seemed the hatred would never stop.

Forget that they were trying to _protect_ this town full of _foolish_, _horrid_ people – no they had to torture her son because they knew, somehow they always could sense, that he was different.

Sam looked up at her then, flashing her a dimpled smile that she returned. She forced her thoughts back under control.

_Gratitude. I am grateful for what I have. Sam is my treasure. If the poor boy can be loving and grateful, then his mother can be too._

...

Sam walked down the dust road towards his small home, pulling his backpack up higher on his shoulders.

His head hung low, trying to hide the tears that mixed with the blood on his face, the bruises that were already forming.

He didn't really understand why the boys at school treated him like they did. He didn't think he had ever done something to them to deserve it, but maybe he had. His mom told him all the time that it wasn't his fault, but he had to wonder. Surely they wouldn't pick on him without a reason, right?

Either way, his face hurt nearly as much as his heart did.

...

"Sam?"

Cara looked out the door, watching her son walk towards the door slowly.

He paused at his name and that's when she knew. _Oh, no. Not again._ Reluctantly, he looked up to face her, revealing a face full of blood and bruises, a torn shirt, and tears.

"Oh Sam. Honey."

She quickly moved forward, wrapping her arms around him, gently escorting him inside their house, sitting him down quickly at the table.

They had done this far too many times. She grabbed a bowl, filling it with water, grabbing the spare cloth she kept on the counter and knelt in front of him.

"A story. You need a story, Sam. How about...hmm, do you want to hear about the hero, Morgan, again?" She began to dab at the cuts on his face as she spoke. Stories had always been her method of distracting him, usually stories that her mother had told her, stories that had been passed down through the family for generations.

Sam nodded slightly, still silent.

"Okay. A very, very long time ago, there was a young boy named Morgan. He was a simple farm boy, but a hard worker. He walked down to the sea, very near his home, every day, because he loved the water."

Cara dabbed at her son's face again, pulling a wince from him.

"One morning, Morgan went down to the water and saw a beautiful young woman being tormented by several of the bachelors in the village. Morgan was a smart boy and he knew that the skin that one of the bachelors held in his hands belonged the young woman. She was a selkie."

Sam spoke up then, having heard this story enough to know it by heart. "He felt sorry for her, then."

"That's right. He felt sorry for her and didn't want her to be taken from her home, where she was happy and safe. So he grabbed a bunch of rocks, climbed up into a tree and started throwing them at the young men. Pelted by rocks, the bachelors ran away, leaving the skin on the beach. The selkie grabbed her skin, but waited for Morgan to climb down the tree. She called to him, asking her rescuer to come see her. He did, moving forward. She thanked him and promised him that for the rest of his life, he would be protected by her and her people. She returned to sea."

Sam was almost cleaned up, but he didn't move, enthralled by this story, just as he always was.

"Morgan grew up to be a sailor. He sailed far and wide, seeing most of the civilized world. He had many adventures and nearly died at sea many times, but was always saved by the selkies."

Sam smiled now. "And he met Aalish."

"He did. He landed on a foreign shore, a place he had never been before. He was taken in by the local people and he met the chief's daughter. She was a powerful witch, but a good one. She had a heart of gold and cared very much about her people. She and Morgan fell in love. They sailed everywhere together and had two beautiful girls and a strong son. When Morgan and Aalish died of old age, their son took over and the ship was passed down through the generations. There were always daughters and they were always witch's, just like Aalish was. Every fifth generation, a son was born."

"And the son had powers. Just like me."

"That's right. Their powers were always unique to them, and they always used them to help others."

"Because they had a _responsibility_ to help."

Cara smiled at her son, proudly. "Good boy. Yes, they did. Finally, the family moved to the Americas. They were one of the first settlers of a little town called North Grove."

"They loved their town."

"Yes, they did. But then one day, an evil witch started to do very bad things in North Grove. The oldest daughter of the family knew she had to do something, so she fought the witch and managed to defeat her. As the evil witch lay dying, she cast one final curse on the oldest daughter. She swore that the daughter and her family would soon be hated in the town. She charged them with the protection of the town they had killed her to save and promised that if they tried to leave, they would all die."

"And until the town completely rejects them, they cannot leave."

"That's right."

"And that's where you come in, right mom?"

"Yes, Sam. Me and you. We have to stay here until the curse is broken."

"When will that be, mom?"

Cara shrugged. "I don't know, Sam, but we must be patient."

Sam nodded.

"Now go change and throw that shirt on my bed. I'll see if I can repair it, okay?"

"Thank you, mom. Thanks for the story too!"

"You're welcome, sweetheart."

Cara watched as her son walked down the hallway, sighing.

She never had told him that the only way to break the curse was for the town to kill a member of the family. Her gut told her the time was coming. She just hoped and prayed that Sam would be safe.

...

"Okay, Sam. Are you ready?"

Sam looked nervous, but nodded anyway.

The daily practicing with his powers was never boring. He found controlling them difficult, some of them worse than others.

The telekinesis was the easiest. He already used it easily, fluently, because it had come more naturally to him at a younger age.

He could create fire instantly, without a spell, which his mom said was a rare gift, but the most difficult of his gifts was definitely the phasing. He could pass through walls and other solid objects, in theory anyway. It took so much energy and he wasn't very good at it. Often it made him sick if he pressed too hard, so his mom was very careful to keep their practices short.

Narrowing his eyes, Sam concentrated and _finally_ a little flame burst to life before him.

He flashed a smile at his mother. "I did it!"

"Fantastic job, Sam. Can you put it out again?"

Sam glared at the little flame, smothering it with his mind and with a small sizzling sound it disappeared.

"Great job! Now, come sit with me, honey."

Sam sat beside his mother, who favored him with a soft smile. "You've been practicing very hard, Sam, and I'm very proud of you. Do you know why I make you practice even though it's hard?"

Sam knew the answer to this one easily. "Because I have a responsibility to help people. I've been blessed with more, so I should use it wisely."

"It's important to always be careful, kind, and helpful, Sam, and you do all three very well. I'm so proud of you, Sam. Now, I think that's enough for today, okay?"

"Okay, mom."

"Go wash up for dinner, Sam. I made some spagetti!"

...

Sam walked towards the small food mart, pausing as the owner appeared from behind a truck, carrying a large load of packages, clearly struggling.

Sam rushed forward. "Do you need help with that?" He asked, already scooping up one of the packages the owner had dropped.

"Thanks, Sam." the owner, Cole, said with a smile. Cole was one of the few in the town who treated the kid with the same kindness that he was shown.

Together, they moved the packages inside and the second everything was settled, Sam moved through the isles, looking for the couple of items his mom had needed.

He tried to ignore the scowls being sent his way by a dark-haired man that he knew all too well. Jacob Kearn was a cruel man by nature and the leading participant in anything opposing Sam and his small family of two.

Sam reached for a jar on the shelf, pushing away thoughts of Kearn, only to jerk back in surprise as a rough hand grabbed his wrist. "Oh, I don't think you want that, Sam. Perhaps you should just leave."

"Sir, please, I just need to grab a few things."

"Cole doesn't want you shopping here, Samuel. Surely that's clear enough. No one wants you and your freak mother around here."

Something dark flashed across Sam's face, a rare but powerful anger building in his chest. "She's not a freak and don't you dare call her that!"

Kearn laughed. "Are you trying to be intimidating, Sam? 11 year olds don't do intimidating very well. Why don't you just run back home to mom before something happens that you would regret?"

Cowed by the man's looming form and taunting face, Sam backed away and headed out the store.

_Dang it. Suppose I can just hide and wait till he leaves._

"Sam!" a loud whisper caught his attention and he looked up to see Cole standing around the corner, out of sight of the door, holding a bag with the groceries Sam always got on his trips.

Flashing the older man a smile, Sam hurried over, exchanging the money for the groceries.

"Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome, Sam. Take the long way home tonight, okay? You don't need any more trouble."

"I will, thanks."

"Oh, wait, Sam, your change. I almost forgot."

Cole accidentally dropped a penny, Sam quickly bending over to pick it up, momentarily forgetting...

He dropped it with a nearly silent hiss, his fingers throbbing with the pain.

Before Cole could get suspcious, Sam took a deep breath, grabbed the penny, and quickly stuffed it in his pocket. He knew his fingers were already burned from the contact.

Flashing a slightly forced smile at the shop keeper, Sam turned and started heading home.

_Well that went well._

...

Unknown to either Cole or Sam, Jacob Kearn watched from the shadows nearby, having seen more during the little exchange that he could have expected.

_What is up with that freak anyway? Hmm..._

...

"Hey, mom, I'm home!"

"What took you so long, Sam, I was worried!"

Sam winced. He hated worrying his mom. Setting the bag down on the table, he sat down heavily.

"Mr. Kearn was in an unpleasant mood again."

Cara instantly looked concerned at that. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"No. Just wasn't going to let me buy anything. I left the store, but Cole brought it around back and we exchanged there."

Cara sighed. "Well, at least you're okay."

"He, uh, he gave me change mom."

Cara was immediately kneeling in front of her son. "Copper, huh? Let me see your fingers."

Sam offered his hand to his mom, who looked unhappy at the light, but painful burns on her son's skin.

"I'll treat these. It could have been worse."

...

Cara watched her young son sleep, amused and touched by how innocent and young he looked in his sleep. Her boy put up with so much, so willingly.

She was so very proud of him.

But she was frightened for him too.

If Kearn had seen Sam drop the penny, seen Sam's reaction to it...

Would he ever put the puzzle pieces together?

Copper was for Sam what silver was for a werewolf.

The thought that their secret could have been compromised had the mother's blood running cold.

_He won't be hurt._

Her resolve strengthened.

_You'll be safe, baby. I promise._

...

A/N: The copper weakness is a bit of a shout-out to Megamind. If you haven't seen it, you should. Yes, it's being used as a serious weakness and problem here, but I thought it was funny anyway. :)


	3. Chapter 2

Hey all! Hope you're enjoying the story so far! We're approaching the meeting of our two favorite boys pretty soon here! :)

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><p>"You saw him <em>what?<em>"

"I swear, Mr. Kearn. He was moving things without touching them, sticking his hand through the wall, starting fires with his mind! It was freaky! And his mom was saying weird words and talked about witch's and stuff."

Jacob Kearn gazed at the boys for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. I'll take care of it. Go spread the word that I need to talk to the men as soon as possible."

Mark and his three friends nodded, running off.

...

"Sam, could you go pick up my package at the post office?"

Sam flashed a smile at his mom, nodding.

Within minutes, he was out the door and enjoying the fresh air.

He had no idea what laid in store for him.

...

He sensed nothing wrong until Kearn stepped out in front of him when he reached town. "Well, well, look at what we have here."

Sam shifted nervously as three more men closed in around him. "Can I help you, Mr. Kearn?"

Kearn snorted. "We don't need anything from _you." _He suddenly lashed out, backhanding Sam hard across the face. In seconds, the three men were on him, kicking him hard, pinning him to the ground. Sam felt his arms yanked behind his back and felt a horrible burn, letting out a scream of pain.

"Copper wire. That ought to keep your devil powers in check."

Tears running down his face, Sam was pulled to his feet, pushed and kicked back the way he had come, towards his home.

"Hey Cara!"

Sam felt something cold and metal pressed against his temple and flinched, but was quickly held tightly in place.

They had a gun to his head.

"Come on outside, witch, and we won't blow the kid's brains out all over your lawn!"

Kearn sounded like he kinda wished she wouldn't come out and Sam shivered at the thought.

He whimpered in pain, the copper still burning his wrists, his side and chest aching from the kicks they had been subjected to earlier.

"SAM!" His mom's scream jerked Sam out of his thoughts and he met his terrified mother's eyes, tears flowing down his cheeks.

"Come with us peacefully and we won't kill him." The _yet_ was clear, though unspoken.

"Alright. Alright. Just...just let him go and I'll come with you. You don't need him."

Sam's eyes widened at the words. _No! Mom, no!_

Kearn laughed. "He's just as much of a freak as you are, Cara, if not more. You won't cooperate without him anyways. No, I think we're going to hold onto him for now. Step out of your house and keep your hands where we can see them."

Cara flashed a frightened glance at her son, then did as she was told. Tying her wrists together, in front instead of behind her back like with Sam, they escorted the two into town.

"Throw them in the shed. Let them stew for a while. We have some things to discuss. The town is gathered in the square and we need to figure out a plan." Kearn ordered.

Sam was shoved hard and stumbled forward, hitting the dirt floor of the shed behind the police station with a groan, whimpering in pain.

Cara soon followed.

The door slammed shut, locked, and they were left in darkness.

"Sam? Sam, honey, are you okay?"

Sam whimpered again, relaxing only a little as his mom gently placed her hands on his shoulder. "Mom, they wrapped my wrists in copper."

The kid had never heard his mom swear before and was shocked when she did now. "Mom?"

"You'll be okay, honey. I promise, it'll be okay. We'll figure it out."

"I-it burns."

"I know, honey."

Sam curled up against his mother's side as best he could, shaking. "The-the curse is broken now, isn't it? They rejected us."

His mom hesitated. "Yeah. Yeah, it has been."

"So when we get away we can leave."

Again, a hesitation before she answered. "Yes, honey."

"I just want to go h-home, mom."

His mom's hands on his face, wiping at his tears. "Deep breath, Sam. It'll be okay. Let me, let me tell you a story, okay? Do you want to hear about one of Morgan's adventures?"

"Th-the one about the sea creature?"

"Of course."

...

Cara let her voice take on a soft soothing quality, hoping to ease Sam to sleep or at least into relaxation.

Their ordeal wasn't over yet and the mother didn't have it in her to tell her son that they probably wouldn't survive.

_The curse isn't broken till someone dies. Neither of us can leave, Sam, not yet. Both of us are trapped until one dies. _

It killed her that she would never get to see her son in peace, safe, again.

She wouldn't let him be the one to die.

She wouldn't.

_Please. Give me strength. _

_Save him. Somehow, save him._

_I'll die for him. I'll be the one to break the curse._

_Just don't let him die._


	4. Chapter 3

Hey guys! I'm so glad you guys have been enjoying this story! Thanks for all the reviews! Boys are meeting soon! :)

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><p><em>"You've reached Singer Salvage, if you need some help just leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can."<em>

"Hey Bobby, this is Cole from North Grove. We caught a couple of monsters and the town decided that we should bring some professionals in to make sure they're gotten rid of correctly. Do you have some time to come down and take care of this? They're very dangerous, so maybe backup would be a good idea. Thanks, man."

Bobby listened to the message, brows furrowing with thought.

_That was...vague...and rather cryptic. _

He didn't have a good feeling about this.

_Maybe some backup would be a good idea. _

Picking up the phone, he dialed his friend's number.

...

"Bobby? Haven't heard from you in a while."

Dean looked up at the words.

_Maybe Bobby has a hunt for us. _

"Yeah, John, it's me. I just got a message from an old friend and they have a couple of creatures that they need us to take care of. They say they've trapped them, didn't say what they are. I got a bad feeling about this one. You and Dean free?"

Dean didn't like the brief, almost hidden, concern that flashed across his father's face.

"Sure, Bobby, just got done with a hunt. We're about a day away from you."

"Okay, once you get here it's another day or two to North Grove, where my friend is. He ain't answering his phone, so I'm guessing we'd better hurry."

"Alright."

John hung up.

"What's up?"

"Bobby wants backup on a hunt. Let's get going."

...

Sam had lost track of the hours they had been in here.

The time passed slowly, moving by in a crawl of pain and suffering.

"Mom, do you think they're gonna bring food in soon?"

It felt like forever since he had eaten.

He felt his mom's hand brush the hair away from his face, tenderly.

"I don't know honey. I'll ask the next time someone comes near."

Sam curled up on the ground next to his mom, his stomach rumbling, his wrists aching.

He had never hurt so much in his life.

_I just want to go home._

"Hey!" his mom's shout startled him. "You could at least give us some food!" She sounded angry, frightened. "Sam's just a kid, you really going to starve him?"

A laugh from outside the shed. "You think we're going to feed you? Monsters don't need food!"

"We're not monsters. If anything, you people are monsters for torturing an eleven year old child!"

It was the wrong thing to say.

In a flurry of activity, the door was thrown open and Sam felt arms wrap around him, tossing him roughly into the wall.

"Torturing? You haven't seen anything yet. Your little brat is an abomination."

Kearn's face split into a fierce snarl, as he kicked out at Sam's curled body, pulling a cry from the child.

"No!"

"You think I'm a monster now, Cara?"

Another kick, a cry.

"No, don't! Don't hurt him!"

A rougher kick, a sob from Sam.

"Please! Please, Kearn, don't hurt him!"

With a final kick, Kearn turned from Sam and looked at Cara.

"I'd watch your tongue, woman. You'll find I can do much worse to you and yours than what you can do to me."

The second the door closed behind their attacker, Cara moved desperately forward, pulling Sam into her arms, wincing at the whimper Sam made at the movement.

"Hey. Hey, Sam, you okay?" she worked hard to hide the fear in her voice.

Sam shook his head and buried himself in her arms, sobs wracking his small frame.

"It'll be okay, honey. Shh, you'll be okay."

...

Hours passed in silence except for Sam's shuddering sobs and whimpers, unwilling to leave his mother's arms.

The quiet from outside was shattered by drunken laughter and Cara felt her heart drop into her toes.

_Oh please no. Please don't._

Sam had apparently heard the noise as well, his shaking worsening.

"Momma?"

Cara tightened her hold at the word that Sam hadn't used in years.

"It's okay, Sam." What else could she say? She had never felt so helpless.

Sam flinched as the door swung open and two men came in.

He was quickly grabbed, pulled roughly from his mother's arms.

"Mom!"

"Sam! Let him go! Haven't you done enough!"

The harsh sound of flesh hitting flesh had Sam fighting against his captors holds.

"MOM! No! Don't touch her!"

A harsh blow to the stomach, then to the face had him flinching back, whimpering in pain as blows continued to rain down on him and his mother.

Pain, blood, and cries were finally replaced by silence.

"They've had enough. Leave him here. Let 'em stew while we wait for Cole's friends to show up."

The door slammed closed.

"Sam?" The weak whisper penetrated the darkness, but was met only by silence.

"Sam, honey? Can you hear me?"

A slight moan had her heart fluttering in her chest, fear for her baby boy too strong for her to fight. She crawled forward, ignoring her own injuries until her hand hit something warm, wet with blood, and moving.

The form flinched violently away.

_Oh Sam. _

Even if they survived this, her boy was clearly traumatized. Would he ever be the same?

"It's just me, baby. It's your mom."

Cara gently scooped her son into her arms again and swore she would never let go again.

_I'm so sorry. _

The sound of wrenching sobs filled the small shed and this time, Cara wasn't sure she had any comforting words to share.

But she would never let Sam know that.

"It's gonna end soon, Sam. It'll be okay."

_It has to end soon._

Her son didn't answer her, gasping with pain between each sob, form shaking with pain and shock.

_How badly injured is he?_

Her own body hurt incredibly, but she knew they were rougher on Sam. She didn't understand how the townspeople could turn on sweet, naive, gentle Sam, but they had.

_What will kill us first? Pain? Shock? Blood loss? Hunger, thirst?_

"It's okay, Sam."

Cara didn't believe it, but if she could give him nothing else, she would her son give comfort.


	5. Chapter 4

Hey all! Hope you're enjoying the story so far and thank you for all the reviews! It's been a rough weekend, really really busy, and finals are coming up, so my updates might slow down a little this week, and will probably stop all together next week, but I'll try to keep up. Thanks for your patience! :)

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><p>The sudden influx of light as the door swung open had Cara and Sam both flinching away from the door and the brightness.<p>

It had been several days since they had been stuck in the shed and both were tired, sore, dirty, and weak.

Cara stood strong and tall anyways, doing her best to shield Sam as they were pulled to their feet and ordered out of the shed. Surrounded by their enemies, Sam clung to his mother, shaking and pale, barely able to stand on his own two feet.

They were dragged to the square, where the small town had gathered. Some looked a little uncomfortable with the situation, but none were brave enough to stand against Kearn and his supporters.

Distantly, three strangers were approaching the crowd and Cara felt her heart sink as their smooth, predator-like movements registered in her mind.

_Hunters_. _Oh no. Please. Please spare Sam. I know I have to die, but not Sam. Please, not Sam._

"Please! Please, think clearly! I have never done anything to you! Neither has Sam! Sam is just a child! Why are you doing this?"

Kearn scowled, lashing out, smacking Cara across the face. She stumbled backwards, taking Sam with her, nearly falling due to her weak state, but managed to stay on her feet.

Sam whimpered softly. "Momma? Are you okay?"

Cara nodded, brushing a hand over Sam's head. "Yes. I'm okay, honey."

...

Dean really didn't understand what he was seeing.

_Monsters? This is a woman and a kid! _

"What the-" Bobby's soft curse from beside him let Dean know that he wasn't the only confused one.

The kid was terrified. Looking over the small beaten body, Dean could hardly blame him. He could barely keep on his feet and his mother didn't look much better, though Dean had to acknowledge her strength as she stood there, unflinching in front of her captors.

_What the heck are these people pulling?_

The smack was harsh and sudden, putting an end to the desperate words of the mother, and Dean felt a tug in his chest as the child whimpered, clutching his mom even tighter.

He didn't understand it, but he was already protective of the young child before him.

"Dad, this isn't right." Dean whispered softly, beginning to quicken his pace.

John just grunted, but Dean knew he agreed.

...

Sam didn't know what to do. He was frightened and he wanted more than anything else to just disappear forever with his mom and never have to see another living person again.

But his mom was talking again, sounding more angry than he had ever heard her.

"Cowards! You would harm a woman and her child because of your own fear? We're different and you automatically assume we are evil? Cowards! Close-minded fools!"

Sam looked up just in time to see Kearn scowl, a blast of fury crossing his own face.

He raised his gun, tightened his finger on the trigger and fired.

His mom jerked and started to collapse, taking Sam down with her.

"MOM! MOMMA!"

_No. No, no no. Please no! _

"MOM!"

Sam was on his knees beside his mom, panic and horror ripping through him.

Distantly, the sound of feet pounding into the gravel reached his ears, but he blocked it out, blocked _everything_ out, except for his mom.

His hands were still bound behind his back, he couldn't do anything, he could barely move, and with that realization his tears spilled over.

"Mom."

She reached up weakly, already fading, touching his tear-stained cheek.

"It's okay, Sam. It'll be okay. I love you so much, Sam. R-remember what I've taught you." The words were strained, each one becoming more and more of a struggle with each passing second. "It'll be okay. R-rem-member th-that not all p-people are evil, baby, o-okay? Th-there's good in th-the w-world too. I-I love you, S-Sam."

Sam had to lean in close near the end, his mother's voice growing very soft.

She took in a last breath, releasing it slowly, her eyes sliding closed.

Silence.

"Mom?"

A sob ripped from Sam's chest, painfully.

"No, mom, please. Please wake up."

Sam collapsed by his mom's side, sobbing breathlessly.

The copper burned painfully, but it could never even compare to the horrible agony that burned through him at that moment.

His mom was dead.

He was given barely a moment before he felt rough hands grab his arms and start to drag him away. Panic and denial ripped through him and he found himself struggling, adrenaline renewing his strength.

He heard shouts as his powers began to act up, people being pushed away by invisible forces, fires popping up randomly all over, chaos beginning to take over the scene. Even the copper on his wrists couldn't hurt him, distract him, enough to stop him.

"Mom!" Sam whimpered pitifully, nearly free, but then there was a touch of cold metal to his cheek. Copper, probably Kearn's doing, pressed against his face.

Sam jerked, the burning sound audible as he let out a scream of agony.

The chaos around them died down suddenly.

Sam's sobs were audible to all as his legs gave out, only the hold of the man behind him keeping him off the ground.

...

Dean let out a soft curse, shocked at the chaos that had erupted, horrified at the boy's screams.

_What have they done?_

The child's sobs as everything settled down ripped at Dean.

_Oh gosh. What have they done?_


	6. Chapter 5

Hey guys! I'm glad you're all enjoying the story and thanks for reviewing! Here's the next chapter!

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><p>A hand on his shoulder stopped Dean from moving towards the fools that he was already swearing would be dead before the end of the night.<p>

Dean looked up at his dad, irritated at the stern expression that was already there.

"You let me handle this Dean, okay? There are a lot of people here. We're gonna help the kid, but we have to be patient. We're outnumbered and outgunned. You do this my way, understand?"

There was no room for argument in his father's tone. Dean glared at him viscously, but nodded, calming his expression, stuffing his boiling fury away to be used later.

Cause they weren't going to get away with this.

Dean wasn't a hunter for no reason.

He could bide his time.

...

John moved forward, his thoughts racing even as part of him analyzed the situation they were walking into.

He couldn't help but be surprised at Dean's fury. Sure, Dean tended to be protective of kids, or even anyone who was helpless, but this was beyond protective.

John wasn't even sure what to call it.

Forcing his mind back to the present, John dipped his head in acknowledgement of the men who were now looking at him.

"I'm John, this is Dean. We're friends of Bobby. Cole called us, said you could use some help. You did the right thing, calling us." John reassured, pulling on all his practice and experience in conning people and forcing himself to sound calm and unaffected by the sobs of the child at the other men's feet.

"Thanks for coming. I'm Jacob Kearn." The man who had murdered the kid's mother reached out and shook John's hand firmly, getting himself pegged as the leader in John's military mind.

"This kid is powerful." That part wasn't a lie. "There's a specific way that we need to do this and I won't work with an audience. It's too dangerous. We'll deal with the kid."

Kearn gazed at him a moment, then nodded, seemingly pleased. "Alright. Just get rid of the little monster."

The kid flinched, but John pretended not to notice, even as Kearn jerked the kid up, shoving him towards John roughly.

Hating himself for it, but knowing he couldn't afford to seem weak in front of the crowd, John grabbed Sam, ignoring him as he flinched away, wrenching him forward. He was too strong for the already weak kid to pull away from.

The look Dean gave him was scathing and so furious that John almost flinched himself. Instead, he hardened his mask, keeping it firmly in place, even as he dragged the kid along behind him, a firm hold on his arm.

Stumbling and whimpering, the kid's legs gave out just as they made it to the Impala. Dean opened the door and John shoved him inside. Before John could make another move, Dean was climbing in the backseat too.

Sighing, John climbed into the driver's seat, waited till Bobby shut the passenger door, then started the car and began to drive off.

...

Dean had never been so angry at his father.

The kid was terrified of them, shaking and looking sick. He was clearly in pain, bleeding and bruised, to say nothing of the obvious emotional trauma.

_He lost his mom. If we had just been a few minutes earlier... gosh. _

Memories of his own mom flashed through his mind.

_He lost his mom just like I lost mine._

Dean glanced at the kid, heart wrenching in his chest when he saw the small kid curled up in the footwell behind the front seat, shaking and trembling, face hidden in the ball he had curled himself into, sobbing.

_Mom would be so proud of us._ Dean thought bitterly.

Before he could reach forward and begin trying to help the kid, John's harsh voice snapped through the car. "Dean."

Disbelief and fury flashed across Dean's face. _"Dad-"_

"No, Dean. You wait till we're clear. That Kearn man is a little too sharp for my liking. You wait till I tell you it's safe."

"Dad-"

"Dean!"

Dean snapped his mouth shut at that. He knew that tone and he knew better than to argue with it, even though it nearly killed him to have to sit here and listen to the kid whimpering and sobbing, watch him try to curl up as far away from him possible, his fear clear.

_I'll fix this for you, kid. It'll be okay. Just a little longer, then I can actually tell you you're safe. Assuming you believe me._

Dean growled softly, under his breath.

_When I get my hands on those men..._


	7. Chapter 6

Hey guys! Hope you're all enjoying the story and thanks so much for reviewing! :)

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><p>John ripped the back door open, ignoring the glare from Dean that should have fried him on the spot, and roughly ripping the supposed "monster" from the backseat.<p>

The kid struggled weakly, whimpering, a soft "please" nearly breaking all the hunters hearts.

John hardened himself, then tugged the kid towards the door, Dean and Bobby following.

Bobby was smart enough to stay behind Dean. He wasn't getting in between this.

The second the motel door closed behind all of them, John released their prisoner.

The kid scrambled away, eyes desperately scanning for a way out, and seeing none, managing to get to the corner farthest away from them, huddling there, hiding his face, shaking violently, still crying.

_Ah, kid. I'm sorry._

John walked closer to him, reaching out very slowly, but the kid flinched violently away from him immediately.

"Look, hey, I'm not gonna hurt you, okay?"

_Yeah, like he's gonna believe that_.

John heard the kid's stomach rumble and a lightbulb flashed through his mind.

"You hungry? How about some food? I'm sure we have something around here."

The kid let out a sob, not responding to him at all.

He was clearly frightened to death of them.

"Dad."

The _let me try_ was clear in the tone.

John sighed, backing off.

Bobby watched silently from his place on the bed, sitting gazing at them. A raised eyebrow, a quick tilt of the head, and his friend moved and sat next to him.

Far enough away to seem less threatening, but close enough to intervene if needed.

After all, the kid wasn't exactly harmless, even if they weren't gonna kill him.

Dean moved forward very slowly, kneeling in front of the kid, who flinched away from him.

"Hey." He kept his voice very soft, very steady, calm and gentle. "I'm just going to take this wire off, okay? I'm not going to hurt you."

When there was no response, Dean continued. "If I take this wire off, will you promise not to hurt me?"

John raised an eyebrow at the tone. Never had they seen Dean act like this. The fierce demon hunter was actually _gentle_.

The kid hesitated, still not looking at him, then nodded, his face still hidden.

"Alright. I'm just gonna reach around you and see if I can unwrap this, okay?"

Not expecting a response, Dean manuevered around, reaching till he could grab the wire around the kid's wrists. It took some doing, but he managed to get it off, wincing as the kid whimpered with the fiery pain.

Dean swore under his breath at the sight of the skin there. Raw, even bleeding in some places, burns clear.

"Okay. Okay, I'm gonna tend to your wrists, but my dad has to bring me the first aid kit, okay?"

Dean wasn't sure if the narration was helping, but he was kinda knew to this whole thing so he figured until he knew otherwise he'd keep it up.

A second later, his father was handing him the first aid kit, then backing off again.

"Alright. This is gonna sting a little."

Dean gently dabbed at the wrist he was holding, tightening his grip on the kid's hand when he hissed and tried to pull away.

"It's okay. It's okay. It won't take long and I promise it will feel better when I'm done. Just a little longer."

A slight pause and the kid settled.

"Almost done. See, not too bad. Almost done."

Dean kept up the steady stream of comforting nonsense as he tended the wrists, cleaning them and wrapping them, then gently massaging the kid's hands to get some of the feeling back in them, hoping to avoid any possible damage.

_Poor kid doesn't deserve any more problems. Not after everything else that's happened to him recently._

"You feeling better?" he finally asked.

Another hesitation, then a slight nod.

"Good, good. Can I take care of the burn on your cheek?" Dean asked softly.

Pause, then the kid finally looked up at Dean. Tears streaked his cheeks, his eyes bright with pain and fear and grief.

"It's okay. This will only take a second."

...

Sam wasn't sure what to think.

It was hard to think through the screaming in his head, the grief that ripped through him, the desperate child inside that was simply crying for his mom.

But something about this guy made him feel a little more at ease.

Perhaps it was the tone that was so reminscent of his mother's when she was cleaning him up after he got bullied.

Perhaps it was the gentle movements where he could have been rough, cleaning up his wounds.

Maybe it was the argument against the big man who had grabbed him before.

Whatever it was, Sam felt a little more at ease around this hunter than the others.

He watched shyly as the hunter took care of the burn on his cheek.

The concentration on his face, the underlying...was that concern?

Confused but slightly relieved by the emotion, Sam willed himself to hold still when all he wanted to do was run and never stop.

Finally, the hunter was finished.

...

"Let's get some of this blood washed up, okay?"

John handed Dean a wet cloth, then quickly backed away again.

Dean gently dabbed at the many cuts on the boy's face and arms, doing his best to gently get as much of the horrid blood off as he could.

The boy had been put through heck that was for sure.

He alternated between keeping his eyes closed and occasionally glancing at Dean.

Dean had to wonder what was running through the kid's head.

...

_"__R-rem-member th-that not all p-people are evil, baby, o-okay? Th-there's good in th-the w-world too."_

The words ran over and over through his head.

They were among the last things his mother had said to him and Sam knew his mother had chosen every word carefully.

_Maybe...maybe I can trust this hunter. _

...

When Dean finally finished, he gazed searchingly at the kid for a moment. Finally, "I'm Dean. What's your name?"

The kid looked at him, hesitating, a flash of fear, then a softly managed, "S-Sam."

Dean met the kids eyes, firmly. "Sam, I _promise_ I will never hurt you. I won't let anyone else hurt you either. You're aren't a monster and I know it. So do they." He gestured to the other watching hunters.

"I know we were rough at first, but we were outnumbered and my dad wanted to make sure we were in the clear before we broke cover."

Dean took a deep breath.

"Your town was wrong, Sam. I...I just wish we had gotten there in time to save your mom, Sam. I'm so sorry."

Sam's eyes teared up and he hesitated, then finally nodded.

Deciding to give the kid some space, not wanting to freak him out or crowd him or anything, Dean backed away.

"I know you must be hungry by now. I doubt they fed you. We'll run and go get some food, okay?"

...

The hunters were all asleep.

The one with the hat had gone to get another room, the scary one was asleep in the far bed and Dean was lying down on the closest bed.

Sam knew he could probably escape.

But...

He was sore.

He was still frightened.

But most of all, some part of him was beginning to trust Dean.

So, he stayed put.

Dean had offered to share the bed, offered food, but Sam felt stuck, trapped in the little ball he had curled himself in, memories of his mom and her death roaming around in his head, keeping him frozen, paralyzed with grief and fear.

Slowly, his eyes drifted shut.

Maybe sleep would clear his mind.


	8. Chapter 7

Hey guys! I hope you're all enjoying the story. Thanks for the reviews! :)

Sorry this is so short! I'm in the middle of studying for finals and finishing up projects and writing papers and the like. I just don't have too much time at the moment, but I really wanted to get something written so here it is! :)

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><p><em>Fists flew at him, blood was everywhere, pain wracked his body, and somewhere his mom was screaming for him.<em>

_"SAM!" _

_A gun shot rang out and his mom's body was right in front of him, her eyes wide and staring at him._

_"NO! MOM!"_

Sam burst awake with a gasp, tender body throbbing with the movement. Tears he didn't remember shedding coated his face.

He was shaking, his dream and memories swimming around in his head.

Hesitantly, Sam pushed himself to his feet, stepping silently over to the bed where Dean was sleeping. More than anything, he wanted comfort. He wished his mom was there to hold him again.

Maybe Dean could help him? Distract him? Heck, maybe he could knock him out or sedate him or something. Sam couldn't fall back asleep if _that's _what he was going to see.

Surely Dean would help him? The hunter had been so kind, gentle, before. He even reminded him in an odd sort of way of his mom.

Finding courage with that thought, he climbed up on the bed and reached a shaking hand forward, touching Dean's arm.

Dean started and Sam moved back, freezing like a deer in the headlights, startled and frightened.

...

Dean turned around to look at Sam, realizing almost immediately that there was no threat in the room.

The look on Sam's face had guilt coursing through him.

He had frightened the kid.

"Hey. Hey, I'm sorry. I'm not mad."

Dean's brows furrowed as he noticed Sam's tear-streaked face.

"Are you okay?"

Sam opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He looked kind of shell-shocked.

Dean knew the feeling.

He remembered what this was like: facing the impossible yet completely real loss of the most important person in your universe. Being unable to believe it, yet unable to ignore it.

Dean took a guess.

"Did you have a nightmare, Sam? What can I do for you?" He kept his voice gentle, hoping not to startle the kid further.

Sam hesitated, looking frightened, then an unidentifiable emotion crossed his face and he was shooting forward.

A second later, he had buried his face in Dean's chest, his whole body trembling, sobs ripping from him, sounding painful.

Dean was taken by surprise, but some instinct had him wrapping his arms around Sam comfortingly.

He remembered this too.

Distantly, he knew his dad was awake by now, could feel his gaze on them. He could only guess at the level of sadness that could be seen in his father's haunted gaze.

"You're okay, Sam. I promise, kiddo, you'll be okay. We'll make sure of it."

Dean kept up the steady stream of comforting words, rubbing Sam's back gently, soothingly, holding him as he sobbed, cried till he had no tears left to give.

After an eternity of heart-rending grief being eased, Dean felt Sam going limp in his arms, falling asleep.

His own exhaustion was catching up with him, his eyes growing heavy as he registered Sam's limp form still in his arms.

He fell asleep feeling whole in a way he never had before.

...

Sam woke slowly, gradually becoming aware of his surroundings.

He was being held against something firm, moving slowly in a set pattern that Sam eventually recognized as breathing.

_Dean._

It all came back to Sam in a flash.

_He held me all night?_

He hadn't had another nightmare.

"Hey, Sam. You awake?"

_Definitely a hunter._

Sam nodded.

"Your stomach is gonna go on strike soon if you don't eat something. You're already running a slight temperature. You feel up to eating something?"

Sam hesitated, then slowly nodded again.

"Alright. Come on over to the table with me."

...

It was a strange breakfast.

Dean kept up a steady stream of random chatter, impossible for Sam to follow, but relaxing him nonetheless.

Dean's dad sat at one edge of the table, silent but somehow less threatening than he had been before.

The other hunter, with the cap, had joined them as well. He was sitting near John, also in silence, looking throughtful.

Even the food was weird. It was kinda random, looked like it had been bought from a gas station or something. Sam supposed the hunters lived off this stuff. He wasn't used to it, his mom...his mom loved to cook, but he didn't mind it. It was kinda nice.

Maybe...Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.


	9. Chapter 8

Well, here's some more Sam and Dean bonding! Thanks for all the reviews! :)

Sorry for the long wait! I have a big clean check for my dorm tonight and I've been cleaning all weekend on top of finishing off two big projects and studying for finals! Thanks for your patience! :)

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><p>"<em>What?<em>"

Dean's shocked tone caught Sam's attention from where he was lying, pretending to sleep, on the bed he and Dean were sharing.

Dean's dad, John, made an exasperated sound. "Dean, we can't just drag the kid along with us. He's not a hunter, he's not prepared for this life and I'm not prepared to raise another kid."

"_I'll raise him then!_"

The room was silent for a moment, everyone frozen in shock.

"Dean, you aren't old enough to raise a kid."

"I don't care."

"We can drop him off at a police station. Maybe an retired hunter's house. We can make sure he's comfortable-"

_"Comfortable?_" Dean sounded infuriated. "Dad, Sam has abilities that no one is going to understand. With the exception of the few hunters we count as friends, no one is going to let him live. It doesn't matter that he didn't do anything wrong, too many hunters see only black and white. The kid is as innocent as they come! He isn't going to be safe-"

"You think you can keep him safe? Huh, Dean? With our life?"

Dean's voice was cold as he answered. "I've kept you safe all these years."

"Yes. But not without help. I've never been helpless."

"Sam isn't helpless."

"I disagree."

"You kick him out, you're kicking me out too!"

Another frozen silence, then John's angry and confused voice broke it. "Where the heck is this coming from, Dean? You barely know the kid!"

"I don't know and I don't care. I feel a connection to him, dad. I want...I _need_ to help him. He's like...he's like my other half."

John was quiet a moment, then sighed. "Fine. I don't understand your level of attachment with him, but he can stick around. But he's your responsibility, Dean. You have to teach him, you have to keep him safe. You understand?"

"Clearly." A door closed and silence reigned.

"You know how I feel now, Sam, but ultimately it's your choice."

_How in the world did he know I wasn't sleeping?_

"You don't have to stay if you don't want to."

Sam finally managed to find his voice.

"I-I don't want to leave."

...

Bobby groaned as he sat down on the bed across from the tv. He was getting a little old for all this.

"A-are..." the softly spoken word had him looking up in surprise at the unfamiliar voice. Sam was looking at him, a strange mix of unease and concern on his face. "...are you okay?"

Bobby wouldn't have been more stunned if the boy had started screaming and shooting up the place. The kid was thoroughly freaked by them all, except perhaps Dean, yet he was concerned enough to ask...

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good. Thanks. Just gettin' old."

Dean snorted. "Understatement of the year. You're more than old, you're like-"

Bobby raised an eyebrow. "Finish that sentence, Dean. I dare you. I'll have you screamin' like a little girl in seconds."

Dean snorted again, watching Sam's wide-eyed reaction carefully. "What ya gonna do, huh?"

"It'll involve cold water and other nameless horrors."

When Sam's lips quirked, Dean fought a happy grin.

"That's okay, old man. Sammy here'll protect me. Won't ya, Sammy?"

Sam quirked his head, a tiny smile breaking through, whether at the idea of protecting Dean or the nickname, the older boy wasn't sure. "Um," was all he managed before Bobby was in and out of the bathroom with surprising speed, a cup of cold water in his hand.

Dean shrieked (_manly_, _it was a very manly shriek, dang it!)_ and darted quickly over to Sam, grabbing the kid and pulling him close. "Protect me, Sam! Save me!"

The giggles that Sam let loose then made the slight loss of dignity worth it.

Bobby looked slightly startled at the happy sound from the sober child, but recovered quickly, determining to not only get revenge on Dean Winchester but make the poor child happy in the process.

It was a game after that, Dean hiding behind Sam, Bobby trying to get around.

A laugh from behind was the only warning Dean got before large arms wrapped around his chest, pulling him away from Sam and pushing him towards Bobby.

"Dad!"

Sam watched, startled, as Bobby took the opportunity and dumped the cold water on Dean's head. Even Dean was startled at the high-pitched squeak that came out of his mouth at the impact of the cold water on his head.

"You two suck."

Another giggle from Sam had all of them smiling.

...

There was an unspoken reason that they hadn't left the motel yet.

Dean knew that Sam was unaware. He also knew that Bobby and John were quite aware.

The minute Sam fell asleep that night, Dean left a note for him (just in case), nodded in John's direction, and took the Impala.

...

The small shack that passed as a bar in North Grove was easy to find. Unfortunately, small bars meant audience in what he wanted to do.

So, he would obviously have to play it cool.

The second he walked in, there was a chorus of shouts from the group of men in the corner that Dean recognized as being Kearn and his friends. The men responsible for Sam's suffering.

"Hey, you're, um...Dean! The hunter's son! Why don't you come join us? The monster dead yet? Bet he went screaming, huh? Glad to see you didn't get yourself roasted! Little freak."

Only years of practicing restraint allowed Dean not to explode and just shoot them right there.

_That "little freak" is a __**child**__ that you have traumatized for life! _Dean swore violently in his mind.

His hand twitched towards his gun before he stopped himself and pasted a smile on his face.

"Sounds like fun. However, I have to pass. Working, don't drink on the job, all that. When you guys have a minute, why don't you go meet me out back? I have something to give you that I thought you might appreciate."

The men looked interested.

They were just drunk enough not to notice the deadly gleam in the hunter's eyes as they followed him out of the bar.

...

It was too easy.

Dean aimed one last final kick at Kearn's chest, snapping another couple of ribs. "Not so tough when you're fighting someone who can fight back, huh?" he snarled.

Kearn's friends lay moaning or unconscious around the alley.

"You destroyed lives. You proud? You happy now? Sam's mom is _dead_, Sam is traumatized _forever_. People like you freaking make me _sick_, Kearn."

Dean turned to leave, then paused and crouched beside Kearn roughly by his shirt, ignoring the whimper of pain the man gave in response to the movement.

"If you come after me or the kid, I will kill you. I'm not you, I'm not a blood-thirsty monster that loves to torment women and children who won't or can't fight back. So, I'm not going to kill you here. However. I am a hunter. And I will defend myself and my family." Dean pulled him close, softening his voice till it was a fierce whisper. "Sam counts as family, Kearn. You remember that. I see you again, you're dead. Understand?"

A desperate nod and Dean pushed him away, releasing him.

He stood and casually walked out of the alley, leaving six moaning men behind him.

...

When Dean walked into the motel room, John was sitting at the table, pretending not to wait for him to come home. Sam was asleep, though he was restless, shifting in his sleep.

Dean took a minute to wash up and discard of his bloody clothes (luckily none of it his own), changing into sweats and a t-shirt to sleep in.

Climbing into bed, he frowned over at Sam a moment, then hesitantly reached over. "Sam. You're okay, kiddo." he soothed softly.

Slowly, Sam settled, relaxing into a deep sleep once more.

Hiding a small pleased grin (_maybe the kid's gonna trust me)_, Dean turned over and closed his eyes.

He had a new responsibility, heck a new _life_, to start tomorrow.

...

Bobby got ready to leave the next morning. He wasn't needed there anymore and he had other things he had to get back to.

However, there was one more thing to do before he left.

He knelt cautiously in front of Sam.

"I know it's been a, uh, a rough couple of days for you, kid. We haven't really had much opportunity to get to know each other. But I want you to know...you call if you ever need anything alright? Dean has the number, so does John. Either one of them can give it to you. You need _anything, _you call."

Sam blushed, but nodded. "Thank you."

Bobby gave a grunt that Sam was beginning to realize was a sign of gratitude or acknowledgment, then stood.

"Later, Bobby." Dean called.

Bobby nodded in his direction, then closed the door behind him.

...

This was Sam's first day on the road with them.

In deference to his inexperience, Dean kept his music soft, not wanting to blow out his young charge's ears on the first day.

It was very different to have someone in the passenger seat with him, no matter how quiet the kid was, as his dad had gotten a truck a few months ago in order to allow them to separate if they needed to.

He liked it.

"Um, D-Dean?" the tentative word from his passenger had Dean glancing over.

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"Um, what are the, uh, the signs on the side of the road for? The ones with the little numbers?"

Dean's brows furrowed at the question, but immediately eased his expression into a smile at the nervous look on Sam's face.

"Haven't you ever been on a road trip, kiddo?"

Sam just shook his head.

"Those are mile markers. They mark the miles the road covers." The young hunter kept his voice encouraging and light, not wanting to frighten Sam off.

Sam considered that, then offered a small smile and went back to watching the scenery.

A few hours passed in silence that was comfortable enough.

Then, "Dean?"

"Yeah?"

A little less hesitant this time, "Why do the towns have such weird names?"

Dean snorted in amusement at the question. "Because _people_ are weird."

Sam blinked, then shrugged and turned to look out the window.

An hour later, "Dean?"

"Yeah?"

No hesitation this time, "Why is your car so loud and big?"

Dean's eyes widened. "My car is a _classic_."

"What does that mean?"

"It means it's _awesome_."

"Do awesome cars have to be loud?"

Dean laughed. "Heck yeah."

"But what makes it loud?"

"The engine does. All the moving parts end up being kinda loud when put together."

Sam "hmm"ed, then turned to look out at the scenery again.

Not even half an hour later, "Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"What's Godzilla?"

"_What?_ You don't know what Godzilla is?"

"Um, no...it was on an ad just now..."

"Dang, kid. That's like a _crime_."

"The ad?"

"No, the fact that you haven't seen it! We're so gonna have to find it now. There's no way I can let you grow up without watching Godzilla!"

"But what is it?"

"He's a monster lizard that destroys things."

"...okay..."

"Seriously deprived. I'm gonna have to educate you in Godzilla and all the good movies out there."

"Mom didn't like tv and movies much. We never had it."

Dean paused, sensing the sorrow, the grief, in the words. "I'm sorry, Sam."

Sam glanced over with large, wet eyes at his new friend. "Well, I-I can just m-make n-new memories with you."

Dean nodded, swallowing his own tears forcibly. "Yeah. Yeah, you can. We'll have fun together, Sam. You'll be okay. You'll see."

...

"I've got a hunt, Dean."

Dean glanced up at his father, hearing the question in the words.

"I'm staying with Sam. I'm not going to hunt until he's trained. _If_ he wants to train."

John raised an eyebrow. "What are you going to do if he doesn't want to?" Disapproval leaked into the words.

Dean forced himself to keep his temper in check. "Whatever I need to."

John left without another word.

Dean sighed, used to his father's foul mood by now.

"Dean?"

Dean turned in surprise. He had thought Sam was asleep this time. "Yeah, Sammy?"

"I...I want to train to hunt."

Dean frowned. "Are you sure, kiddo? You don't have to do it. Not if you don't want to. I don't care what he says and you shouldn't either."

Sam nodded. "I want to help you, to help people. Mom taught me that I have...I have a responsibility because of my abilities. I should learn to use them. We used to train to use them. I just...you...can you be the one to..."

Dean nodded. "Of course, Sam. I can train you."

Sam gave a small smile.

...

The next morning, Dean took Sam with him and his father to the closest diner for breakfast.

Sam glanced uneasily at all the people in the diner, shying away from any who approached the boys as they waited for a seat.

Dean took note of this and was careful to seat Sam on the inside of the booth when they finally got a seat, placing himself between the kid and the rest of the diner.

If John noticed, he didn't say anything.

"What can I get for you boys?" The kind older waitress came up, smiling easily at them.

"Eggs with a side of toast for me." John ordered.

Dean glanced once more down at the menu. "I think I'll have some pancakes." he finally decided.

"And for you, sweetie?" the waitress addressed Sam.

Sam stiffened, his mouth open to answer, but nothing was coming out.

Brow furrowing, Dean quickly spoke. "Do you want some pancakes, Sam? I'll bet they even have some chocolate chips or something to put in it for you."

The waitress seemed to notice Sam's intense shyness and smiled gently at him when he glanced at Dean then her.

"I'll put in a special order for you, Sam, if you'd like."

Slowly relaxing, Sam nodded, offering a small smile of gratitude.

"Alright, I'll be back in a few minutes with your food!" The waitress hurried off.

Dean gently bumped Sam's shoulder with his own. "Hey. You okay?"

Sam shrugged. "Yeah, I just..." he couldn't seem to find the right words.

"You're just a little nervous." Dean guessed.

Sam nodded, looking slightly embarrassed.

"That's just fine, Sam. Nothing wrong with that at this point."

...

When they finished, John went off to research at the library and the boys decided to walk around town a little.

Dean glanced up as the commotion ahead of them registered, relaxing as he saw it was a fair.

"What is _that?_" Sam asked, looking at the fair ahead of them with large eyes.

Dean glanced over at him, stunned. _Will this kid ever stop surprising me? _"You've never been to a fair?"

Even Dean with his less than ideal childhood had been a fair.

Sam shook his head. "I guess they don't come to North Grove."

Dean took only a moment to decide. "Come on."

"Where we going?" Sam hurried to catch up with his suddenly moving friend.

"To the fair."

...

It was crowded, which didn't bother Dean much. Sam, however, was suddenly pressed against his side, pale and looking uncomfortable, cringing away from the touch of the crowd.

Dean drapped an arm over Sam's shoulders, guiding them through the crowd easily.

"Let's try some rides. Sound like fun?" Dean asked.

Sam looked around them at all the stands with wide eyes, a little overwhelmed at all the sights and sounds around them.

"Thank you, Dean." he said, flashing his friend a bright smile.

Dean returned it, squeezing Sam's shoulders gently. "You're welcome, kiddo. Let's go have some fun."


	10. Chapter 9

Hey all! Another long chapter that took forever to write. I've been working and studying and taking tests like crazy!

I just finished the last day of my sophomore year of college! Holy crap, A's in all classes! :D (Sorry, had to brag a little, I'm freaking out!)

Thanks for your patience, hope you enjoy! :)

...

"Okay, we're going to take it slow, alright?"

Sam nodded, fidgeting nervously.

Dean's face softened a little. "I know you can do this, Sam. I've shown you some of the basic hand to hand, now we're just going to go a little faster. You'll be okay."

Sam nodded again, still not trusting himself to speak.

Both settled in their stances, facing each other.

Dean made the first move, throwing a punch with little power behind it, expecting Sam to block.

A second later, Dean was glad he had been watching Sam's face closely.

The pure panic that flashed through the kid's eyes gave Dean the second of warning he needed before Sam folded in on himself, almost dropping to the floor before Dean caught him.

Sam was hyperventilating, shaking. The hunter could feel Sam's tears hit his hands.

He could only image what Sam was remembering.

"Hey. Hey, you're okay. Just breathe, Sam. Slow it down. You're gonna pass out, kiddo. Deep breath. It's okay."

Dean pulled Sam back against his chest, both sitting on the floor now, gently rubbing his arm.

"You're okay, it's over, you're safe. You're safe. Shh, Sammy, you're safe. I promise. You're safe."

Sam slowly began to calm, his breathing evening out, his shaking subsiding some, though his fingers curled in Dean's t-shirt, showing no sign of letting go.

"That's my boy. See, you're safe. Just me and you know I would never hurt you. You're safe, Sammy."

...

_Alright. That didn't work. We need to start slower. _

Dean scanned the room, noting that Sam was standing near the beds, then glanced at the keys in his hands and was hit with a sudden blast of inspiration.

"Sam."

Sam looked up.

"Think fast." And Dean tossed him the keys.

Sam flinched, but still managed to shift forward and grab the keys.

Confusion, then realization, then happy surprise flittered in rapid succession across Sam's face.

Dean flashed him a happy grin. "That's a start. Darn good start."

...

A comfortable silence had fallen over the pair after they had gotten in the car the next day.

It was broken, finally, by Dean.

"Uh, Sam? Can I ask you a question?"

Sam glanced over at him, then shrugged. "Sure."

"What was your life like...you know, _before?"_

Sam paused, flashes of grief, pain, wistfulness, then acceptance crossing his face. "My...my mom was wonderful. She...she was amazing. She taught me a lot about...responsibility, kindness, gratitude. The town...the town didn't like us much. I...I don't...don't really understand...I was picked on a lot. Came home beaten up all the time cause the other boys didn't like me. I never understood what I did to deserve it, though mom told me all the time I hadn't done anything. I...I guess at the time I didn't understand that people do things, evil things, without a reason... I used to go the grocery store and pick up our food and pick up mail. I did all the errands for my mom. She never went into town. I...I remember her doing it once when I was very little."

Sam went pale at the memory. "S-she never did it again." Sam paused, then continued. "I played outside a lot. Practiced with my powers. Mom tried to train me, though it was hard. She would tell me all kinds of stories about how our family came to North Grove."

Dean's brows furrowed. "If it was so bad, why did you guys stay?"

Sam just smiled sadly. "Maybe I'll tell you the story someday."

Sensing that Sam couldn't really handle any more conversation in that direction, Dean changed the subject. "What _are _your powers, exactly? How do they work?"

"Um, well, I have telekinesis. It's the only one that I have even fairly good control of. It comes more naturally to me than the others. I can manipulate fire, start it and stuff. And I can, uh, phase through solid objects, like walls and stuff. It...It's just way draining. I haven't practiced much. Mom was gonna wait till I was a little older, a little stronger."

Dean considered that for a moment, then spoke softly. "Do you want to practice with your powers, Sam? Maybe we can learn to understand them together?"

Sam looked over at him, then smiled shyly. "Yeah. I'd like that."

...

Months passed by in a blur.

Dean and Sam trained in both powers and weapons, as well as in hand-to-hand, though they took it all slowly, not wanting to overwhelm the new member of their family before he even started.

Sam enveloped himself in both Dean's and John's hunters journals, researching and digging, learning and memorizing, proving to both hunters that he was a fast learner.

Over time, he also proved himself a talented researcher and, though he hadn't actually hunted with them yet, he took over a great portion of the research for the family of hunters.

With everything he did, Sam looked to Dean for approval. Every time he was able to recite latin perfectly, he wasn't pleased until Dean expressed a sign of pride and approval. Every time he blocked a punch or made a perfect shot, it wasn't _really_ perfect until Dean said so.

Dean was a little overwhelmed at the level of responsibility he had, by the pure need and love Sam had for him, but he rose to the challenge and all were impressed at the bond the boys shared.

Sam's first hunt came a few months after he joined them.

...

Sweat poured down Sam's face as he tossed another shovel full of dirt out of the grave. He worked as quickly as he could, aware of the two older men above him playing lookout, going toe to toe with the infuriated ghost.

"You doin' okay, Sammy?" Dean asked, ever aware and protective of his young charge.

Sam nodded, even though Dean wasn't facing him. "Yeah. I'm good. Almost done."

A few more minutes of shovelling finally had the coffin there for all to see. Dean pulled Sam up out of the grave.

All was going well, until Sam grabbed the lighter fluid.

Chaos erupted.

A ghostly scream of rage ripped through the cemetery.

An invisible force grabbed Sam, flinging him away from the grave. He hit the ground with a sharp cry, moaning in pain.

"SAM!" The hunter started towards his friend, but the ghost interfered, tossing Dean the opposite direction.

John aimed his shotgun, but the ghost didn't even give him a chance to fire, gaining power in its fury, tossing him straight into a tombstone. He was out cold a second later.

Dean was struggling to his feet, but the ghost went for him again.

Ghostly hands wrapped around his throat, tightening their grip, Dean gasping for air, trying to grab a shotgun that was out of his reach.

Panic ripped through Sam, gazing at the scene before him. Desperately, he forced himself to his knees, flung a hand out towards the grave. A blast of flames leapt up in a bright flash of light and heat.

Another ghostly scream and it was gone.

Sam's eyes began to roll back up in his head, and he collapsed fully to the ground, gasping, sweating, struggling to stay awake.

_Too much..._

_U-used t-too much e-energy..._

His mom had warned him about pushing himself too hard, but what choice had he had?

Dean scrambled over to him frantically, reaching a hand out to turn him over onto his back. "Sam! Sam! Crap! Are you okay?"

A slight groan nearby announced John's return to consciousness, pushing back his own dizziness when he he heard his son's frantic calls to his friend, getting to his feet and quickly deciding he didn't have too bad of a concussion.

Dean gently gathered Sam in his arms. "Hey. Hey, are you okay? Talk to me, kiddo."

Sam nodded weakly, still fighting the darkness that threatened.

"T-tir'd, D'n." he slurred softly.

Dean brushed hair out of Sam's face gently. "Just rest, Sammy. You're safe."

Just as Sam drifted off, John walked up. "Bones are torched. For that matter, so is the coffin. Heck, even the tombstone is burnt."

John sounded more amused than anything.

Dean smiled down at the small form in his arms. "Well, that's Sam for ya. Kid never does anything half-way."

...

Sam took to hunting after that, enjoying the pride that Dean and even John showed when he did a good job.

He was a firm believer in pulling his weight, in doing his part. He also liked to believe that his mom would be proud of him for the work he did to save other people.

It was what she had often told him he would someday do.

The only part of hunting that Sam really hated was the danger it put his adopted family in.

...

"Dean! DEAN!" Sam was beside himself with panic, gazing down at all the blood covering his friend and brother.

John's hand on his shoulder had him jerking up to look at the older hunter.

"Deep breath, Sam. Dean will be okay. We'll get him to the motel and patch him up, okay? It's not too bad."

It was a tense ride back to the motel, Dean lying unconscious in the backseat, Sam squished into the footwell beside him, checking him constantly for a pulse and breath, for consciousness.

It wasn't until they got Dean settled on the motel bed that he woke.

"S'mmy?" Dean mumbled.

"I'm right here, Dean. It'll be okay, I promise. Your dad's gonna patch you up."

John handed Sam a cloth. "Will you wipe up some of the blood, Sam? I'm gonna stitch him up."

Memories hit Sam hard as he glanced at the cloth. How many times had he sat and listened to his mom's stories while she cleaned him up?

Sam leaned over Dean, starting to dab at the blood on his face. "Hey. Hey, I...um...I'll tell you a story, okay?"

Dean looked puzzled for a moment, but nodded a little, encouraging Sam to go on, wincing as John started stitching.

"Okay. Okay, um, a very, very long time ago, there was a young boy named Morgan. He was a simple farm boy, though a hard worker. He walked down to the sea, near his home, every day, because he loved the water. One morning, Morgan went down to the water and saw a beautiful young woman being tormented by several of the bachelors in the village. Morgan was a smart boy and he knew that the skin that one of the bachelors held in his hands belonged the young woman. She was a selkie."

Dean focused on Sam's face as he told the story, surprised at the emotion on his young friend's face. _There's more to this than a simple story._ That much Dean knew.

"He felt sorry for her and didn't want her to be taken from her home, where she was happy and safe. So he grabbed a bunch of rocks, climbed up a tree and threw them at the boys. Pelted by rocks, the bachelors ran away, leaving the skin on the beach. The selkie grabbed her skin, but waited for Morgan to climb down the tree. She called to him, asking her rescuer to come see her. He did and she thanked him and promised him that for the rest of his life, he would be protected by her and her people. She returned to sea. Morgan grew up to be a sailor. He sailed far and wide, seeing most of the civilized world. He had many adventures and nearly died at sea many times, but was always saved by the selkies. He landed on a foreign shore and was taken in by the local people. He met the chief's daughter. She was a powerful witch, but a good one. She had a heart of gold and cared very much about her people. She and Morgan fell in love. They sailed everywhere together and had two girls and a son. When Morgan and Aalish died of old age, their son took over and the ship was passed down through the generations. There were always daughters and they were always witch's, just like Aalish was. Every fifth generation, a son was born."

_Wait a second..._

Dean cocked his head a little, even the pain of the stitches falling into the background as Sam spoke the words, spoke them as if he had heard them hundreds of times.

"Their powers were always unique to them, and they always used them to help others, because they had a responsibility too. Eventually, the family moved to the Americas. They were one of the first settlers of a little town called North Grove, that they loved."

Dean stiffened slightly, the connection made.

_Oh crap. This is the story. _

"But then one day, an evil witch started to do very bad things in North Grove. The oldest daughter of the family knew she had to do something, so she fought the witch and defeated her. As the evil witch lay dying, she cast a final curse on the daughter. She swore that the daughter and her family would soon be hated in the town. She charged them with the protection of the town they had killed her to save and promised that if they tried to leave, they would all die. And until the town rejected them, they could not leave. So the family stayed for generations and sacrificed and protected the town, even though they were soon hated."

John had finished the stitches now, but no one moved, entranced by the story that by now they all recognized.

"But the townspeople turned on their protectors. They...they murdered the good woman and mother, tortured her son."

Sam looked at Dean, his eyes brimming with tears, but his lips quirking up in a poor smile.

"Then a new hero came. He saw what the townspeople did not: innocence. He saved the son and gave him a new life, raised him and protected him just as the boy's mother had done. They became best friends. More, they became brothers."

Dean blinked away tears of his own, reaching up and grasping Sam's wrist, squeezing it comfortingly.

"Th-that's a good story, Sammy."

Sam's chest heaved as he fought his grief.

"My-my mom..." he couldn't finish.

"That was the story your mom used to tell you, right? About why you stayed in the town."

Sam nodded.

"Thank you for telling me, Sammy. Thank you."


	11. Chapter 10

Hey all! So, so sorry for the long delay! I'm sitting in a motel room right now, heading home after my secnod year in college! Thanks for your patience and hopefully I'll be able to settle into a routine again once I finally get home!

Anyway, here's the next chapter! It's extremely short but it's late and I'm tired and it's been a long day of driving. Thanks all! :)

* * *

><p>Years passed.<p>

As Sam aged, he and Dean became better friends, better hunters, and better brothers in everything but blood. Sam grew in confidence and ability, his powers slowly coming more naturally to him.

He developed a friendship with John and other hunters that the Winchesters called friends, including one of the men who had rescued him, Bobby Singer, and a pastor named Jim. He endeared himself to all he met, never losing the kindness he had been born with, the compassion and innocence of his childhood that he refused to let go.

For a long time, he was very hesitant around any men larger than him, drifting closer to Dean whenever they were around men that were larger, frightened by them, scarred by his experience when he was eleven. However, with Dean's help and the help of his new friends, Sam gradually grew to regain his trust in people, confidence in his own ability to protect himself, and most of all trust that he had someone to watch his back.

Finally, at nearly 17 and 21, the two decided to go their own way, separating from John, who felt Dean was ready to hunt with just his young partner.

It was a challenge at first, but as with everything, Dean proved himself more than capable, especially with his little brother to back him up.

...

The call came about six months after the boys went off on their own.

"Hey, Bobby. We were just about to call you. We haven't heard from dad in a while."

Bobby's voice was solemn. "Something's wrong, Dean. He's missing. He was supposed to call me about a question he had over a week ago, but never called. Your daddy isn't known for his reliability in communication, but this is bad even for him."

Dean cursed viscously. "Where was he?"

"From what I know, he was going after a powerful witch. Come to my place. I got a bad feeling about this. Sam may need to take a look over this one."

Dean glanced over at Sam, who was watching him worriedly. "We'll be right down."

...

The second they arrived at Bobby's, Sam took over the library. Within hours, he was surrounded by papers, books, notes.

Dean just stepped back and let Sam at it, aware of Sam's gift for research. Bobby was amazed, having never seen Sam work before.

He was both creeped out and amused by Sam's use of his telekinesis during his research, frequently not even looking up from what he was reading, reaching out and "calling" a book to him, grabbing it from the air near his hand and flipping through it with his hands.

"You're gonna catch flies pretty soon there, old man! You never seen Sam research before? This is normal for him. You aren't freaked out, are you?" Dean practically cackled in amusement.

Bobby threw Dean a scowl. "Boy I've been hunting longer than you've been alive. 'Course I'm not freaked out."

Dean's retort was interrupted by a pillow to the face. "Sam!"

Sam's laughter was clear in his voice. "Be nice, Dean."

"You be nice." Dean grumbled.

"What are you, three?"

"_What are you, three?_"

"Real mature."

"_Real mature._"

"I'm _researching _here, Dean. Unless you'd like to take over?"

"No thank you. I'll leave all that nerdy stuff to you."

"Whatever, jerk."

"#$%^."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Idjits. Both of ya."

...

Armed with as much knowledge of this witch as Sam had been able to dig up, the pair headed towards where John was supposed to have been.

"I have a bad feeling about this, Dean." Sam finally confided.

Dean threw him a look. "How bad?"

"Bad." Sam stated grimly.

"It'll be okay. Nothing can keep the Winchester brothers down, you know that!"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Right. Of course. How could I have forgotten?"

Dean grinned. "I'll just have to keep reminding you. Though, simply sitting next to me should remind you of my brilliance. I mean, I just _radiate_ it."

"Radiate? That's a big word for you, Dean. Have you been studying?" Sam mocked playfully.

Dean threw him a fake scowl. "When did you grow a sense of humor?"

"I learned from the best."

"Darn right you did."


	12. Chapter 11

Hey all! Long time no talk! I'm finally home from college for a couple of months (my college has a weird schedule) and I'm looking for work. Meanwhile, I've decided to return to this story. This is probably the second to last chapter. I've really wrung my muse dry with this story and I think I need to move on to another story. If anyone's interested, I will eventually write a sequel (maybe). Thanks for your patience, thanks for the reviews, and please keep reading! :)

...

"You sure this is it, Sam?" Dean eyed the warehouse suspiciously. "Certainly looks creepy enough for a witch."

Sam rolled his eyes. "You're a dork and, yes, I'm sure. The house was clear, we checked, and she owns this land."

"Alright, alright. Who knew you'd grow to be such a sensitive little girl."

"Who knew you'd end up being such a whiny bum."

"Whiny bum?"

"Focus, Dean."

"Why so serious?"

"Dean."

"Oh, come on, there's always time for the Joker."

"This witch captured a _Winchester,_ Dean. I don't think this is the time for the Joker. She's clearly powerful."

"Good point. You're still a stick in the mud."

"Dean."

"Sorry. Shutting up."

A sudden voice sparked from nearby. "Oh, please don't. This conversation is so entertaining! You boys are simply adorable."

Dean and Sam both spun to face a woman, tall and seemingly unaffected by the guns they now had aimed at her.

"Oh, what cute toys."

"Who are you?" Dean growled, serious now.

The woman pouted. "I'm hurt, Dean. You'd think you're recognize a witch when you see one."

Dean scowled at her. "How-"

The witch laughed. "You have no _idea_, how much I know about you, Dean Winchester! Your father is John Winchester, who I have already become acquainted with. And beside you is your adopted brother, Sam Egan, from North Grove. Son of Cara Egan, departed from this world about six years ago, killed at the hands of the townspeople that she strove to protect. So _sad."_

Sam literally growled at that, moving forward threateningly without thinking, stopped by Dean's suddenly outthrown arm.

"How _dare you_ mock her?" His fury was clear.

"Sam." Dean's voice was a soft warning, as well as a reassuring comfort. Sam still wasn't sure how Dean always managed both.

Sam stopped trying to move forward, despite being incensed further at her mocking grin.

That's when he registered her earlier words.

He had made a name for himself at Dean's side the last few years, not as Sam Egan, but as Sam Winchester.

This was a different enemy.

An enemy who knew about _him._

Sam felt Dean inch closer to him protectively, clearly thinking along the same lines as he was.

"I also know that Sam is _special_. Just like other boys before him, he has unique abilities. Unfortunately, they are weak, just as he is weak. Isn't that right, Sam?"

Both boys scowled at her angrily. "Where's our dad?" Dean demanded.

The witch smiled. "Ah, John Winchester. He is in the warehouse, no doubt bored out of his mind, waiting in shame for his son and his little sidekick to come rescue him."

"What do you want?" Sam asked, his mind flitting back to the bad feeling he had had earlier.

The witch eyed the boys, growing serious. "Ah, down to business, I see. Well, Cara and I go way back. When we were both young, I took an interest in your little town of North Grove. I had some fun and your mom didn't take kindly to that."

The witch's eyes flashed with anger. "We fought when I refused to leave peacefully. It was a close battle, but unfortunately I lost. Your mother managed to defeat both my teacher and myself. She was powerful, your mother. We met several times afterwards, but I just couldn't overpower her."

The witch's furious scowl shifted to a smirk. "Then I heard that she was dead. And had left a young son behind. I knew that my revenge would have to be different and in a way, this is more fitting."

Dean shifted closer to Sam again, not liking the sound of that, drawing another smirk from the witch.

"Ah, that won't help Dean, but don't worry I'm not going to kill him right now. You see, I want to _toy _with him first. He's going to suffer just as his mom made me suffer. Humiliation and loss, repeatedly, until you have nothing left to lose but your life. Then I'll take that too. Thus, John is locked inside the warehouse, waiting for rescue. I have booby traps and creatures of my own conjuring scattered throughout the building. What do you think, Sam? You think you're enough to save your best friend's dad? Or are you going to fail him just like you failed your mother?"

Dean fired a shot at the witch, but in the blink of an eye, she was gone.

Sam turned his wide-eyed gaze on Dean, his shock and pain turning to determination. "Let's find your dad."


	13. Chapter 12

Well, here's the last chapter of this story (with an epilogue coming real quick). I really took forever on this, sorry! Working two jobs will do that to you. Paying for college, you know. :)

Anyway, hope you all like it. Not sure what I'm doing next. If you have any opinion on what's next, just find the last time I listed the possibilities and message me or review or something. I'm lazy and am not going to list them all again here.

Anyway...thanks for reading! :)

* * *

><p>The first hallway was empty, but that didn't help the two young hunters to relax.<p>

If anything, it made them tense up further.

Dean shifted his grip on his handgun, glaring at the hallway as if it was personally responsible for the mess they were in.

By unspoken agreement, the two started walking cautiously down the hall, ears and eyes open for anything suspicious.

Hearing nothing, it wasn't till they got to the end of the hall that they saw the fork.

"Which way?"

Sam peered down both hallways, but neither stuck out to him.

"They look the same." Sam hesitated. "Split up?"

Dean immediately shook his head. "No way."

His tone made it clear that he wouldn't listen to any argument Sam may have made.

Sam made a face, but nodded, glancing down the right fork then turning to the left.

He let out a yelp as he suddenly saw the large creature suddenly standing there in the shadows.

Dean turned at his yelp, freezing as he laid eyes on the deformed creature before them.

A black, lumpy torso, long limbs that were all different lengths, it didn't seem that the creature would have moved as silently as it did. Clearly, magic was at work.

Sam's sharp eyes had already picked out the long, very deadly, claws that jutted out from the creature's four feet.

Just as suddenly as the one had appeared, another came loping up behind, and another, and another, and soon, Sam knew they were in trouble.

"Dean." he whispered, as if it would keep the creatures from attacking for another moment.

"What?" Dean's voice was tight, strained.

"Run?"

"Heck yeah."

Both turned in sync, booking it as fast as their bodies would go down the right fork.

Sam glanced back, eyes widening as he saw the creatures were already pursuing, faster than he could possibly have expected.

"Faster!" Dean had clearly noticed it too, as he reached out and pushed Sam forward slightly.

Dean turned, still running, firing a quick shot at the nearest creature.

It yelped as deep red blood poured from a hole in its shoulder, but it only paused for a second before it was following them once more.

Dean swore. "We're in trouble."

Another fork and it was Sam's turn to curse. "Direction?"

"Um, right!" The appearance of more creatures in the left fork made the decision for them.

Sam turned, firing two shots from his gun, two creatures going down and staying down.

It didn't even make a dent, two more creatures just joining the pack already chasing them, yowling and snarling.

"Dean!"

If the call was desperate, neither hunter acknowledged it.

"Just keep going!"

They were catching up, unearthly howls echoing through the bare halls.

Another fork and Sam made a quick decision. "Left!"

_Oh shoot._

Sam skidded to a stop, a dead end before them.

"Sam, down!"

Sam felt himself slammed roughly into the wall to his right, Dean's body where his had been moments before, gun raised and already firing as a creature flew right at him.

A tangle of limbs and curses and howls and Dean was suddenly pulling Sam to his feet, a creature lying dead nearby.

"You're bleeding." Sam dazedly noticed.

"Not the time, Sammy."

The creatures were closing in and Sam would have sworn they looked triumphant as they bared their sharp teeth.

"Ideas?" Dean asked tersely, gun raised as they backed up towards the wall behind them.

"Not really. You?"

"No."

A creature leapt forward and by reflex Sam threw a hand out.

A burst of fire enveloped the creature and spread backwards, sending the creatures shrieking back, killing a few only for them to be replaced by more.

It bought them a moment.

Sam pressed his hands against the wall behind them, trying to force his mind to think harder.

That's when it heard it.

_"Dean? Sam? Is that you, boys?"_

"Dean!"

Sam pressed his ear up against the wall. "Th-there's a room behind this wall! I think-"

"Dad." Dean nodded, grimly. "How do we get through the wall? No explosives and no time for you to blast your way through it with fire."

Even as they spoke, the creatures were approaching again, furious as they yowled, but more cautious as they moved around the fried corpses of their fellows.

"I can go through it." Sam suggested, paling at the very thought.

"No way. You can't get through that wall, Sam, you don't know how thick it is and even doing it a little leaves you sick and shaking! You can't take your whole body through it."

_And I can't leave you here._ Sam added mentally. _What do I do? What do I do?_

_**"Or are you going to fail him just like you failed your mother?"**_

The memory of the witch's sharp, mocking words echoedd through his mind.

_No! I can't fail either of them! I have to do something!_

The sound of Dean's gun firing brought him back to the present.

He knew what he had to do.

_If there's anything I've learned from Dean, it's that I'm not weak and that I love my family. I'm not going to let him die._

_Not for me._

_Not now and not ever._

Decided, Sam grabbed Dean, shoved him against the wall, then concentrated hard, ignoring Dean's curses.

It was agonizing. Moving through the wall felt like moving through a pile of millions of needles that all stabbed him as he passed through, his insides twisting and screaming at the abuse, every inch of him on fire.

Finally, they were through, John's voice suddenly there and loud, the yowling creatures a distant threat.

Sam was gasping, pale, shivering. Eyes rolling, he started to crumple, Dean's quick reflexes the only thing that saved him from a nasty faceplant.

"Dang it, Sam!"

"Sam? Are you boys okay? Dean, what happened?"

Ignoring his dad for the moment, Dean wrapped his arms around Sam, gentle despite the gruffness of his voice.

"Deep breaths, Sam. Slow it down. That's it. You're okay. You're stupid, but you're okay."

His head slowly clearing of the bright agony, Sam let himself recover for a few minutes as Dean fell silent, then slowly opened his eyes.

They were in a small room, John leaning over them worriedly, and-

"There isn't an exit."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Way to go, Sherlock. Why do you think dad stayed in here, huh?"

Sam didn't even bother to waste energy shrugging, instead pushing himself to his feet with Dean's reluctant help.

"That witch get you boys too?" John asked.

Dean shook his head. "Nah. We saw her, talked with her, and she said you were in her. Filled the warehouse with her killer monsters that look like they were put together by a blind hallucinating five year old. Sam took us through the wall, which was really _stupid_, Sam."

Sam glared at him. "It was that or get eaten. You really want to be a snack to those things?"

Dean returned the glare for a moment, then finally relented, breaking eye contact and grumbling. "I would have at least been a full course meal. I'm no snack."

Sam covered a snort of amusement by rubbing a hand over his face, definitely something he picked up from his older brother, gazing around the room.

"There really isn't many options, Dean."

Dean paused. "No, Sam."

"You want to stay here?"

"You can't, Sam."

"I can if I really have to, and I really have to."

"It's not worth your life!"

Sam forced himself to be calm. "I'm going to die if we stay in here, Dean. We all are. I won't lie, getting out will probably make me sick as a dog and I'll be pretty miserable for a while, but I'll probably live."

"_Probably?_"

"Isn't that better than definitely dying?"

Dean knew he had lost when John remained silent, looking grim, when Sam gazed at him with his ridiculous puppy eyes, fear and determination both mixed in his face.

Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair, fighting his own panic at the words he was about to utter.

"Fine, Sam. But if you die on me, I _swear..._" He let the words hang, Sam nodding.

He got it.

"I know, Dean. I'll be okay."

With that, Sam walked over to the wall opposite of the one they had come through.

"I think this is an outside wall of the warehouse." Sam mused. "Thicker than the other one, I think. It'll take longer to get through it."

Nodding, Sam motioned the other two hunters over.

"Hold on to me. And whatever happens, don't let go."

They each grasped an arm firmly, then Sam laid his hands against the wall, forcing himself to concentrate, pushing the panic and fear to the back of his mind.

If the first time had been torture, this was clearly hell.

Knives ripped through him, his insides shredding, his heart pounding.

It went on forever, every movement sheer anguish.

Finally, _finally_, they fell hard onto the gravel outside of the warehouse.

Sam shook, practically convulsing, eyes screwed tightly shut, hands curled into fists. His muscles tense, tears ran down his face uncontrollably, his skin deathly pale.

The agony was blinding and all encompassing.

"Sammy!"

Dean ever so gently gathered Sam in his arms, calling his name desperately and fearfully with no response.

After an eternity passed, Sam finally let out a breath and went limp.


	14. Epilogue

Here's the epilogue! You all rock! :)

* * *

><p>It was the longest three days of Dean's life.<p>

He paced back and forth in the small motel room, watching Sam closely as he did.

Watching, always watching.

Hoping for some change.

_Sammy. Please. Please wake up._

Unable to sleep, unable to even keep food down, Dean was falling apart, his fear for his little brother tormenting him.

Unable to do anything that was really helpful, Dean just watched.

...

When Sam finally stirred, Dean at first thought it was in his imagination or that he was beginning to hallucinate or something.

When it happened again, he was standing at Sam's bedside in seconds.

"Sammy? Sammy, can you hear me?"

Sam's eyes slowly opened, gazing up at Dean, eyebrows creased in slight confusion, then worry. He tried to speak, swallowing hard when nothing came out, then tried again.

"You okay?"

Dean's laugh might have sounded a bit deranged, but Sam didn't comment.

"Am _I_ okay? I'm peachy. I'm great." Pulling himself together slightly, Dean gazed closely at Sam.

"Are you okay? Still in pain?"

Sam immediately shook his head.

"No. No, I'm fine. No pain, no sickness, nothing. I'm good, Dean." Sam offered Dean a small, reassuring smile that communicated all he didn't know how to say.

_I'm okay._

_Thanks for caring._

_I'm glad you're okay._

Raising an eyebrow, Sam gave Dean a _look_. "Now go take a shower or something, dude, then sleep, cause you look like crap."

Dean chuckled, working on collecting himself again now that the worst seemed to be over.

Unable to resist the urge, unable to forget all that had happened, the horror of the last few days, Dean pulled Sam into his arms, hugging him tightly.

A soft laugh, then, "You did a good job. I'm proud of you."

Sam smiled, tightened his arms around his big brother. "Thanks, Dean."

"If you do that again, I'll kill you myself."

Sam laughed at that. "Noted."

Releasing Sam, Dean moved over to his duffel, collecting clothes, then finally moved into the shower.

Sam sleepily watched him, considering what he saw before him.

_He was really worried._

_He cares about me._

_He's my best friend, my brother._

_I owe him so many times over and I'll never be able to pay him back for all he's done for me._

_I'm gonna spend the rest of my life trying anyway._

_But I wouldn't change that for the world._


End file.
